What Happens In New York
by jayde-allison
Summary: The Battle of New York draws Brian out from Pittsburgh to make sure that Justin's safe. He finds more than he bargained for though, when pushed by his determined ex boyfriend and super nerd bestie into meeting the Avengers themselves and drawing them all into a strange friendship.
1. Superheroes Are Real, Brian

**Author's Notes: **This just came from a discussion I was having with my roommate last night. It's a bit of an odd concept, but I couldn't get it out of my mind, so here it is. I don't own anything to do with the Avengers or Marvel, and I don't own QaF.

* * *

Sometimes people forget that the Battle of New York and the unveiling of the Avengers affected more people than just New Yorkers. News companies from all over the United States, from all over the world, had swarmed Manhattan in the hours of the attack and in the days afterward, and were buying footage of the alien invasion off of civilians who'd been using camera phones or iPods to catch the action. The coverage was wild and far reaching, and live streams of the battle were broadcast all over America.

When Michael had turned on the television that day he'd stared, wide eyed and slack jawed, as events straight from one of the many comic books he'd memorized unfolded on screen, and squealed when he saw Captain America leap over a car and slam this signature shield into a weirdo alien's face. He'd shouted up the stairs at Ben, "Are you seeing this?" and when his husband came down to see what the excitement was about, toothbrush hanging haphazardly out of his mouth and foam threatening to spill past his lips Michael reiterated, "Seriously, are you seeing this?"

Ben went into the main floor bathroom and spit and rinsed before rejoining the smaller man in the living room, standing in front of the television and watching with something akin to shock. "It's real," Michael whispered mostly to himself, "superheroes and super human powers and alien invasions and the whole nine yards. It's all real. That's Captain America! Are you seeing this?! I have all this trading cards, all the comic books, and I'm watching Captain America kick alien ass on TV for real. Is this reality? Am I awake? Pinch me." He didn't give his husband the chance though, as he was suddenly scrambling for his phone. "Oh my God," he mumbled under his breath, fumbling to dial the numbers. "Oh my God, Brian. I have to tell Brian."

* * *

Brian Kinney was bored. He was in a meeting with some company execs from New Jersey and was completely unfocused. His assistant, Jennifer, was taking notes beside him as the old man in an ill fitted suit droned on, and Brian reached over with his pen and scribbled on the corner of Jennifer's page. _When will these assholes stop talking?_ Her hand had stilled for only a moment before she jotted back, _Not sure, but you have this contract in the bag_. Brian nearly huffed. He'd had the contract in the bag as soon as these old fogies had entered his office and seen some of his ads, strategically and inconspicuously placed around the room. Their old ad campaign was absolute shit, and they would take any bones Brian would throw at them if it meant an increase in revenue next quarter. It would be an easy job, and completely uninteresting, but the commission was good. Guaranteed good money didn't really hold his focus though, and when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket he almost answered it. He ignored the first text message, and the second, but when the buzzing turned from the little spurts of texts into the long drawn out buzz of a call he stood.

"If you would excuse me for a moment, Gentlemen. I need to take this call." He retreated into the hall and answered the call, relief washing over him as he registered Michael's number. "Good timing Mikey, those old breeders were boring me to death in there."

Uncharacteristically for Michael, he ignored Brian's lack of greeting and words gushed forth immediately. "Brian, holy shit. Have you been able to get ahold of Justin?"

Brian paused. He hadn't spoken to Justin in almost three months, his communication with the young blond sporadic and bittersweet. Never one to talk about his feelings, and known to fight them all the way, Brian had had trouble coping with Justin's departure, even though it'd happened a good seven years ago. They'd tried hard to stay in touch with each other and to move on with their lives, and by all accounts it seemed that Justin had done just that. But Brian had fallen into a sort of stagnancy, his life falling back into his pre-Justin routine even though all his friends were maturing and changing around him. Though he'd never admit it, he was still in love with that little asshole, and it was hard to talk to Justin because of it, and hard not to. So he'd taken to acting as he had before Justin had swooped in and turned his whole world upside down, before he'd given his heart away to a boy whose smile had put the sun to shame. "I haven't talked to him in a while."

"You mean you haven't tried to call him yet? Brian, oh my God. Haven't you seen the news?"

"Mikey, I'm in a meeting. What the fuck are you going on about?"

"There are aliens attacking New York, Bri! Aliens! Manhattan is pretty much a pile of rubble right now and it's still going on!"

Brian paused, his eyes brown eyes widening for a brief moment before he flat out laughed. "What the fuck are you talking about? Aliens Mikey? Really?"

"Yeah, and Captain America is with a bunch of these really badass people that they're calling the Avengers, and Tony Stark is there with the Iron Man suit, and OH MY GOD IS THAT THOR?"

"You have got to be kidding me. Look, I need to get back to the meeting before all those dicks shrivel up and die of old age, but I'll pick you up for lunch and-"

"Brian I'm serious! Turn on the TV or go on YouTube or something. It's everywhere, you'll see. And call Justin!" And then Michael had hung up.

Brian stood the the hall, phone in hand and immobile for a good couple more minutes. Aliens attacking New York? Captain America, the WWII comic book hero, and Thor, the thunder god of legend fighting them, as well as a billionaire in a metal suit? Mikey must have had some weird dreams last night. But if it was all over the news...

He stormed back into his office and grabbed the remote for the wall mounted television off his desk. "Brian?" Jennifer asked, alarmed, but he ignored her and switched to CNN. Sure enough, the first thing they saw was Iron Man shoot some sort of laser blast at something that looked like a humongous metal slug. Then a huge green man-thing jumped into the shot. It stood there for a moment before letting out a roar that shook the camera and leaping away with a speed that was surprising for something so massive and hulking. All eyes in the room were wide and everyone was frozen, watching with awe and fearful fascination. "What in God's name is happening?" one of the execs murmured as another grabbed his cell phone from his briefcase and started making phone calls.

Brian's eyes were glued to the screen, watching the destruction unfold. He only had one thought in his mind, repeating over and over again. _Justin_. He'd dialed the number and had the phone to his ear without really even realizing it, and as it rang he felt a growing panic. This was worse than that time Babylon got bombed, if only because he'd been able to take a taxi there and find Justin and Mikey himself. Now, though, there was nothing he could do except watch the action on TV and pray that Justin answered his phone. When it went to voicemail, he called again. "Come on Sunshine, pick up. Pick up your fucking phone." He called a third and fourth time, and when it again went to voicemail he'd made his decision. He packed up his things and nodded at Jennifer, his silent communication for _clean these guys out_ and he was out of the office and on the street within minutes. He drove home and packed a bag, then was on his way to the airport, weaving through traffic and running a few stop signs.

He was going to be on the next flight to New York if it killed him.


	2. Phones

**Author's notes: **I don't own Marvel, The Avengers, or Queer as Folk. That is all

* * *

Justin was getting coffee when it hit them.

He was standing in line at Starbucks, tired and desperately wanting an iced cafe americano with extra espresso when the barista screamed. His gaze jerked up and away from the sketch on his tablet as he looked at her, confusion and concern in his blue eyes. The barista, probably no more than nineteen, was white as a sheet and pointing out the window. Everyone was turning to see what had alarmed the girl, and more screams rang out from the patrons. Justin craned his neck to see what the fuss was about, and what he saw shocked him.

There was a very tall, very gray reptilian humanoid _thing_ standing outside the Starbucks and shooting at people with a weird gun-like device. Justin had only ever seen similar things in sci-fi movies and comic books. He shoved his tablet and stylus in his messenger bag and got closer to the window, watching in disbelief and horror as the monster continued mowing down people in the street with his glorified laser gun. Things got progressively worse as some massive metal space centipede crashed into the building across from them and began to crumble. And then the figure with the gun turned to the Starbucks and looked in the window.

Metallic golden eyes locked with pale blue, and then Justin turned and scrambled away. "Run!" he yelled, and the people scattered and fled. The creature shot a blast in through the front window and there was a flash of blue as a woman fell. He saw her hit the ground out of the corner of his eye, and Justin veered to the side to pull her into his arms and drag her back behind the service counter. There was a barrage of blue flashes and the screaming intensified. A rumbling shook the ground, there was a shrieking noise, and then nothing.

Justin poked his head up over the counter and saw... nothing. The creature was gone and aside from debris, the street out front was empty. People were slowly and shakily picking themselves up off the floor. "What was that?" a man in a dark suit asked.

"What do we do now?"

"We need to find somewhere safe."

Justin held his bag close to his body and started searching around for his phone. He wanted to call 911 or his mom or someone. Anyone. But as he searched through the pockets he distinctly remembered leaving his phone on the kitchen counter and forgetting to grab it before leaving his apartment. He looked around. He was only a few blocks away from home, but he lived on the sixteenth floor of his building and didn't think going up that high would be safe. A Starbucks employee turned on a television and Justin's suspicions were confirmed as he saw footage of more flying space centipedes crashing into the sides of buildings and alien creature things shooting off blue laser beams through windows, apparently in a firefight with New York's own Tony Stark, decked out in his Iron Man suit.

The skies were teeming with hordes of what Justin could only believe to be aliens, but the street in front of the Starbucks was quiet. He settled back down behind the service counter, holding the felled woman's head in his lap. She was unconscious but breathing. He combed his fingers through her dark hair absently, trying to quell the fear he felt raising within him. He wasn't going to try to brave the streets to get home, or anywhere else for that matter. To him, for now, it seemed like the safest course of action was to stay put. Justin shifted again, arranging himself a little more comfortably and draping a spare green Starbucks apron over the woman before letting his head fall back against the counter.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Brian had been told that there were no flights going into or leaving from anywhere in New York state. He was frustrated by this development for all of two minutes before he got back into his car and drove. Google told him it would only take him six hours to drive there, so he wasn't going to sit in Pittsburgh and wait for Justin's call. Brian had always been a do it yourself kind of guy, and today was no exception. He wasn't going to rest until he knew Justin was safe, and if that meant driving into the heart of madness, so be it.

His car, nearly brand new and fairly expensive, had connected wirelessly to his phone as soon as he'd started the engine. "Call Mikey," he ordered as he pulled out of the airport parking lot.

Michael answered on the first ring. "Did you get a hold of Justin?"

"No. Have you heard anything?"

"Linds called. She can't reach him either. Do you think the cell towers are down?"

"I don't know Mikey, but I don't like it. I'm going down there."

"You're WHAT?" Michael screeched. "Bri, no! There are laser beam toting aliens destroying everything! Just come here and we can wait it out together."

"I'm not waiting for anything," Brian snapped back. "Boy Wonder is MIA and I need to make sure he isn't dead."

"But Brian, how are you going to find him?" Michael paused and huffed a breath before saying, "He could be anywhere, Bri. And he's probably fine. You can't just go down there and roam the streets and expect you'll find him."

"I'm going to find him, Mikey. I'll call you when I do."

* * *

_Please enter your password._

_You have 11 new messages. To review your messages press 1._

_First new message sent on June 15 at 10:03 am._

Justin, Honey, it's mom. I saw what's happening on the news. Give me a call when you get this, Sweetie, and let me know you're alright. Stay safe. Call me, Justin.

_End of message. Next message sent on June 15 at 11:15 am._

Justin? It's Linds. Mel and I just wanted to make sure you're alright. Give us a call when you can. We'll be waiting.

_End of message. Next message sent on June 15 at 11:47 am._

Come on Sunshine, pick up. Pick up your fucking phone.

_End of message. Next message sent on June 15 at 11:47 am._

Justin. It's Brian. Call me.

_End of Message. Next message sent on June 15 at 11:47 am._

_End of message. Next message sent on June 15 at 11:48 am._

_End of message. Next message sent on June 15 at 12:02 pm._

J. It's Molly. Mom's freaking out, you better call one of us back. I mean it. And if you're dead, I'll kill you. Seriously. Call me. Love you.

_End of message. Next message sent on June 15 at 12:54 pm._

Justin. I'm coming for you. See you soon.

_End of message. Next message sent on June 15 at 1:27 pm._

Its me again. Seriously, call me. I'll be there in five hours.

_End of message. Next message sent on June 15 at 2:12 pm_.

Justin. Justin...

_End of message. Next message sent on June 15 at 5:58 pm._

I'm going to find you, Justin. It's gonna be okay. I'm almost there. You're going to be fine. You're fine. I'm coming. I'm coming for you. Justin. Justin... Oh God, Justin. I'm... I'm almost there...

_End of messages. To review messages press 1. To delete messages press 7. _


	3. The Unfathomable Ideas of Tony Stark

**Author's Notes: **And so the real part of the crossover begins. I do not own QaF, Marvel, or any part of The Avengers.

* * *

Tony was tired to the bone. His whole body ached from yesterday's hours spent fighting aliens, flying a nuke into space, almost falling to his death, being squeezed by a Hulk, and having multiple people shout at him. The Hulk's roars were almost a terrifying as Pepper's. Almost. It hadn't helped matters that he'd fallen asleep draped over the bar, exposed to the elements. He was tired and sore as fuck, kinks in his muscles and cuts and bruises all over his body. He felt like shit.

But he was happy.

He had somehow managed to drag Bruce back to the tower with him. He couldn't quite remember how, but the details didn't really matter. He was alive, Bruce was hanging around somewhere, New York was damaged but still standing pretty upright considering the circumstances, and though Stark Tower was in need of repairs the damage wasn't as bad as he'd initially expected. Things could have been worse. A lot worse.

Tony lifted his head from the bar top and cast his bleary gaze around the half smashed room, then straightened himself out. "JARVIS," he croaked, "where's Bruce?"

"Doctor Banner is in the spare room you offered to him yesterday, Sir. He is still sleeping rather heavily."

"Really? I took him for an earlybird."

"It seems that two transformations in one day was quite a hit to Doctor Banner's system, Sir. But I do suggest that both of you eat something sooner rather than later. Shall I rouse him?"

"Yes, yup, good plan. Food. Food is good. Lets do this." Tony brushed himself off and then went to change into a fresh pair of jeans and he switched his Black Sabbath t-shirt for his AC/DC one. When he returned to what was left of his living room, Bruce was standing near the Loki shaped indent in the floor, looking rumpled and uncomfortable. "Doctor!" Tony exclaimed, slinging an arm casually over Bruce's broad but slouched shoulders. "Breakfast time, ya think? I'm thinking we could just pop by the McDonald's down the street and order all the greasy, bacony goodness we can get our superhero hands on, hmm?"

Bruce shifted and ghosted out from under the weight of Tony's arm. "I don't know if-,"

"Of course it's a good idea, Big Guy! Aren't you starving? I know I am, and I don't have a giant green rage monster inside me that increases my metabolism tenfold. He does increase your metabolism, doesn't he? I mean, did you see Cap eating that shawarma yesterday? He ate _so much _and the Hulk was supposed to make you into a Cap copy, was it not? So I figured that if I'm hungry and Capsicle eats like a beast you must be practically _dying _of starvation and-,"

"Stark," Bruce muttered, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You can go back to bed when we get back. C'mon Doc, don't you want to see our handiwork?"

"Not particularly," Bruce murmured, but allowed Tony to lead him down through the tower and out into the street anyway. There weren't many people about, mostly just government agents, cops, and repair crews. It was both a blessing and a curse, because even though there weren't many people, all the people hanging around were the types of people Bruce was wary of. Tony hurried Bruce down the street to the yellow arches that had somehow stood unharmed throughout the whole ordeal. All the buildings around the grease factory had been nearly leveled, but the giant yellow M still stood proudly, like a beacon for hungry alien invasion survivors.

"Get as much food as you want, Brucey Boy," Tony offered as he sauntered over to the counter, "I got this."

Bruce studied the menu board, his gaze drifting behind his glasses. "We missed breakfast."

"So it seems. Wanna go somewhere else?"

Before Bruce could respond, he noticed a young boy shuffling over to them. He watched with surprise and interest as the boy, probably no more than seven, came up beside Tony and tugged gently on the hem of his t-shirt. Tony cast wide, dark eyes at the kid, confusion swirling in their depths. The boy thrust his hands up towards Tony's chest, a very old comic book held in his little fingers.

"Will you sign this for me, Mister Iron Man?"

Tony sputtered. He was used to people asking for his autograph, but those people were usually busty women with fuck me eyes or university science students, generally also with fuck me eyes. "Uh," he was almost at a loss, but Bruce saved him.

"He doesn't like being handed things," the doctor murmured as he slowly extended his hand for the comic, "but he'll sign it for you."

The boy studied Bruce thoughtfully, his lower lip caught between his teeth for only a moment, before he gave Bruce the comic. The doctor then pulled a pen from God knows where and handed both the pen and the comic book to Tony. He wouldn't notice until later that the only other person who could hand him things the way Bruce had was Pepper, and that Bruce had intercepted the boy almost as smoothly as she would have.

The comic book was clearly very old, the colour faded, but was still in wonderful condition. Tony let his signature curve and jerk in the left corner, careful not to write over the hero's face. It wasn't until he'd handed the comic back to the boy and he'd trotted back over to his parents, throwing a, "Thanks, Mister!" over his shoulder, that what it was really clicked for Tony. Captain America. He had just signed what looked to be a WWII era Captain America comic book. He felt a brief flash of indignant irritation before he felt the pressure of an unformed idea swirling around behind his eyes. Hmm. Definitely something to think about. Later. Right now, he wanted the biggest, greasiest burger he could find.

"Hi, yeah, uh, I'm gonna get at Bacon and Cheese Angus burger. With extra bacon. Like, as much bacon as possible. And large fries. And soda. Please. Bruceykins?"

Bruce rattled off an order that had a salad in it and Tony gave him an incredulous look as he paid and wandered over to the window. "Why didn't he ask for your autograph too, huh Doc?"

Bruce let a small, self deprecating smile dance over his lips before he said, "Nobody knows what I look like, Stark. All the footage is of the Other Guy. That's part of how I stayed in hiding for so long. I blend in."

Tony studied Bruce in the reflection of the window. Tony had never been one for blending in; his genius brain had him sticking out from a young age. Bruce Banner, debatably even more of a genius than Tony, made blending in look like an art form. It was perplexing to him, how someone as ridiculously smart as Bruce could want to be just as invisible as the average person. Bruce was everything that wasn't average, and it was fantastic, and hiding it should have been a crime.

The pair ate in silence and then wandered back to the tower, no words spoken between them. There was still the pulsing of the idea-fetus behind his forehead, but he was trying not to pay it too much attention until he could get into a space conducive of work. He was making his way to his lab, Bruce following quietly behind him, when his eyes landed on a poster on the wall and he stopped suddenly, dead in his tracks. Bruce bumped into him . "Stark?" the smaller man asked, mildly concerned. "Are you okay?"

Tony didn't reply. He barely even registered the fact that Bruce had spoken to him. His eyes locked on the poster as the idea-fetus bloomed into a full on epiphany. The poster, an image of Iron Man done in a style that was very seventies retro, had been in Tony's possession since 2009, and he'd hung it up by the lab as an ego boost. He saw it every day, but had never spared a thought for it. Now though, the Iron Man image was colliding in his brain with the Captain America comic book. Pop culture dictated that superheroes were to be enshrined in comic, and if Tony hadn't proven himself as a superhero yesterday, he didn't know what he'd been doing. Therefore, being a superhero, it only made sense to him that his next step was to immortalize his superheroness in a comic book that would kick Capsicle's comic book ass.

"Tony?"

Bruce's voice spurred on Tony's train of thought instead of derailing it. Tony was not the only one who had asserted his superhero status yesterday. The Hulk had done a world of damage to the Chitauri army, Thor had smashed a fair bit of alien head himself, and then lit the bastards up with his godly powers, and for mere mortals with no mutations or expensive, badass metal suits, Barton and Romanoff had held their own spectacularly well. Rogers had done his shield tossing bit that had proven to be just as effective and popular as it had been in the forties. The six of them, together, had literally killed it, and become a superhero team. It wasn't fair that Cap had a comic of his own, and it wouldn't be very cool of him if Tony created one for himself if he didn't give the others each one of their own as well. The thing with that was, though, that on their own, none of them were as cool as they were when they were together.

Tony snapped his fingers in triumph. It was perfect. It was good publicity, it was unexpected, it was fun, it would make lots of money, and it would drive Pepper bonkers. He had to do it .He couldn't have stopped himself from doing it even if he'd wanted to. He was going to do it, and he was going to start the ball rolling immediately. He was going to produce an Avengers comic book.

"JARVIS, who did this poster?" he asked, his voice filled with such a determined sense of purpose that Bruce was caught off guard.

"The poster you are looking at was designed and produced by a Mister Justin Taylor, Sir."

"Send some examples of more of his work to my tablet. And have his number ready. Justin Taylor is about to have the biggest commission of his life dumped in his lap."


	4. Smartest Men and Best Ideas

**Author's notes: **Here we go. I do not own anything relating to The Avengers, Marvel, or Queer as Folk. I only own some strange ideas.

* * *

Two days after what Bruce was now referring to as The Manhattan Incident, the Avengers had gone their separate ways. Scattered, but aside from Thor, all easily accessible to Tony and his huge wealth of nosy, spy-worthy technology. He had Happy drive to Steve's SHIELD appointed apartment in Brooklyn and bring him back to the tower, he'd found Romanoff in D.C. and carted her back to New York, and he'd remotely hijacked the jet Barton was on and had JARVIS fly him back in, all from the comforts of his one unscathed lab. Bruce, not having had the chance to escape Tony and New York in the first place, hunkered down in the corner of the lab in an outfit that was entirely borrowed and entirely unlike him, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You really think it's a good idea to call everyone back. Just because you want to make a comic book about us."

"Best idea ever, yes," Tony responded as he fiddled around with some holographic images that had been projected into the air. If Bruce had the presence of mind to pay attention, he would have actually been quite interested in what Tony was working on, but as it was he was too perplexed and exhausted by the entirety of the last few days to notice.

"I'm beginning to worry about what constitutes as a 'good idea' in your brain."

"Easy. If I thought of it, it's a good idea."

The grin and cocked eyebrow that Tony shoots over his shoulder is cocky and playful and everything that Bruce is unused to seeing in a look that is directed at him, but is everything that he is beginning to believe is what Tony Stark is actually made of. He manages a tired quirk of the lips that could be considered a smirk in some areas of the world before deadpanning, "My scepticism must be unfathomable."

"It is, frankly, deeply disturbing that you don't have more faith in my genius-,"

"I've known you for three days. There hasn't been much time to build up any 'faith in your genius.'"

"-and I know you're used to being the smartest man in the room-,"

"I still am the smartest man in the room."

Tony's thought process and ramble rant are derailed by Bruce's stone faced delivery of that little jab, and the sound of his own sputter that follows it. Bruce is sort of smiling, and Tony wonders if this is what Bruce was like before Culver, before the Hulk. His dry sense of humour and deadpan presentation of it have only seen the light of day once or twice over the past seventy two hours, but it's delightfully different and very confident feeling compared to the meek anxiety that Bruce tries to present as his natural state. Tony had never believed that Bruce was really like that, had always figured that he had trained himself to be like that, and was pleased that that training was already starting to fail in his presence. "Well, I beg to differ! JARVIS is here and he-,"

"JARVIS is an AI. You do realize he isn't actually a living being, right?"

"He may be an AI, but he's an AI created by me, meaning he is pretty much an extension of myself, and therefore I am the smartest man in the room because JARVIS is smarter than both of us. So HA."

Bruce's head thunks back lightly against the wall and he stares up at the white of the lab ceiling to hide the grin that his lips have twisted into as he mumbles, "I still think it's a bad idea."

"And once everyone gets here," Tony says as he turns back to his holograms and starts fiddling around again, "I probably will too. But right now it still falls under the 'Best Idea' category. Because I am the smartest man in the room and all my ideas are the best ideas. So there!"

* * *

Barton is the first to arrive at the partly demolished tower, even though he was coming in all the way from Weed, California. "Weed?" Tony barked in a voice that was somehow indignant, delighted, amused, and maybe even a little jealous. "They sent you to a place called Weed?"

Barton gives a slight shrug before blandly responding, "SHIELD's psych eval guy said I needed to chill out after having been, ya know, brainwashed. And I just figured, why the hell not. But it's got a pretty small population, so I'm sure it wouldn't have been as exciting as you're thinking a place called Weed probably should be."

Tony laughs and drops a hand heavily down on Barton's shoulder, half herding, half dragging him into the kitchen. If he notices the way Barton tenses under his touch, and the way he has to fight to relax his shoulders as he's lead away, he doesn't bring any attention to it. Bruce watches warily, his lips pressed into a thin line.

* * *

Romanoff is next, entering the building in a way that would be begrudging had it been anyone else, but since it's her it's just a strong entrance. She's blank faced, and her body is relaxed in that way that can go from relaxed to dangerous in less time than it takes to blink. She ignores Stark as he shouts, "It's nice to see you too, Agent!" at the back of her head, and she has a sort of weird stare down with Bruce over the marble countertop of the kitchen island.

"Where did he call you back from, Dr. Banner?" She asks almost casually, breaking the oppressive silence that had left Bruce feeling smothered and nearly dissected.

"He didn't let me leave," Bruce murmurs, his hands wringing together and his eyes trained on the little nick of a scar on Romanoff's chin. He'll have a hard time looking her in the eyes for probably a long time, he knows, but it'd be rude not to look at her at all while engaging in conversation. So.

Romanoff just watches him with her sharp eyes and blank face. She knows that, had he put up enough of a fight, Stark wouldn't have been able to keep Banner in New York against his will. So even though he says, "He didn't let me leave," all she hears is, "I stayed."

The Hulk frightened her. She can actually only recall a handful of times she'd ever been that scared for her life, but she isn't scared of Dr. Bruce Banner. She's memorized SHIELD's file on him, and seen for herself the way he lives when he thinks no one's looking. Bruce isn't a man to be fearful of. The thing about Romanoff though, is that even though she is the master at being professional, at being a blank slate, she still has feelings. She fights them and hides them and is fantastic at ignoring them, but they're still there underneath everything. She'd felt a choking fear when faced with the Hulk, and she'd felt something small and soft, almost sad, while reading Bruce's file.

When he's big and green and smashing, he's the Hulk. And he's Banner when he's using his brain to do brilliant things and showcasing the fact that he's the smartest man she's ever met and running away from any person that wants to see what that big brain of his, and that green alter ego of his, can do. But standing in an alien smashed kitchen with apologies painting his face and hands twisting around each other, he's Bruce. Harmless, lonely, exhausted Bruce. And she hears him saying "I stayed," underneath everything that he tries to make people think he is.

You can't tell by looking at her, and nobody knows her well enough to know, but she's fighting a small smile. The Hulk terrifies her, and Banner is too stubborn and hardheaded to be likeable, but Bruce is kind and lonely and deserves a place that he feels safe enough to stay. And as much as she hates that she can even think this about Stark, she thinks maybe he can provide that. So she watches with her sharp eyes and blank face, and fights her small smile, and asks, "So. Why are we here?"

Bruce almost huffs and his hands stop strangling each other so that he can pinch the bridge of his nose. "You're going to kill him," he mutters in a voice that is long suffering and faintly amused. "'It's my idea so it's the best idea' my ass. How is he even still alive?"

The fight against a smile turns into a fight against a laugh, even though her blank face never falters. Romanoff likes Bruce. She hopes she'll be able to see more of Bruce and less of Banner and Hulk. For her sake as well as his, because she doesn't figure he likes them very much either.

* * *

"How is it even possible that you're the last one?!" Tony crows as Steve Rogers strides into the kitchen. "Seriously, how?! I plucked Legolas right out of Weed's airspace and Agent Romanoff from the bowels of the government, and you live down the block and they both got here faster than you!"

"I live in Brooklyn," Steve says, clearly a little cross. "This is Manhattan. Not down the block."

Tony throws his hands up in the air. "Down the block compared to Weed!"

He keeps rambling on, but nobody is paying attention. Instead, Steve turns to Bruce. "You've been staying here?"

Bruce gives a nod.

"With him?" Steve asks, his eyebrow cocked in a way that actually sort of reminds Bruce of Tony, and Bruce nods again. There's a beat of silence before Steve says in his strong, unwavering tone, "You're a braver man than me, Dr. Banner."

Barton snorts and Romanoff's sharp eyes flash in what could possibly pass for amusement and Steve chuckles when Bruce responds, "He's actually been pretty calm this afternoon."

It's then that Tony practically drapes himself over Bruce's shoulders, shoving a bag of trail mix in his face. "So. Should I tell 'em about the best idea ever now, Big Guy?" Bruce is perfectly still except for the roll of his eyes, and Tony's body slides off Bruce and moves to stand at the head of the island. "I've gathered you here today," he begins with a flourish, "to talk to you about the best idea ever. And trust me on this one, guys. It's the best."


End file.
